


A Handful of Love and Chaos

by BlurbMonster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon is whatever I like, Danny Mahealani is Part of the Pack, Family, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Lacrosse, Multi, One Shot Collection, The Author knows nothing about lacrosse, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurbMonster/pseuds/BlurbMonster
Summary: Lydia and Jackson won't stop trying to seduce the same people, Danny has terrible taste in men, Chris thinks his daughter is doing this to him on purpose, Henry doesn't know who the man in his kitchen is, Boyd joins the lacrosse team, Mellissa loves all her sons, and letting Brett and Theo in the same room together was a terrible idea.One shots about the disasterous mess that is living in Beacon Hills.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Chris Argent/Peter Hale (past), Danny Mahealani & Jackson Whittemore & Lydia Martin & Allison Argent, Everyone & Everyone, Lydia Martin/Multi/Jackson Whittemore (not poly), Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore & Allison Argent & Scott McCall, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Peter Hale/Henry Tate, Theo Raeken & Brett Talbot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Round 1 FIGHT!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson has a bi awakening and a horrible precedent is set.  
> (Set at the start of season 3, Jackson didn't move to London)

It was an event when hot twins in leather jackets strutted into Beacon Hills High, but it was elevated to an Event when people saw the reactions of Lydia and Jackson. Allison and Danny were ones with front row seats to the beginning of the end, but Danny was distracted by the gay twin so it fell to Allison to observe and document for historians.

So there they were, at their lockers on opposite sides of the hall. Lydia and Jackson determinedly ignoring one another while the other two tried valiantly to cross the linoleum canyon between them, when two figures- backlit by sunlight from the school’s entrance- walked in.

They sauntered down the hall, facing straight ahead because they’re too cool and tall to react to the clamouring students around them. One of them- presumably the gay one- winked at Danny who flushed and grinned in return. Meanwhile, Jackson and Lydia simultaneously ran their eyes over the other twin and decided ‘he will be mine’.

Initially, it was Lydia who played on the attraction between her and Aiden while Jackson expertly utilised the ‘hey, your twin and my best friend are dating, we should hang out sometime’ method to his full advantage. Classic. Aiden, for his part, rode high on the shower of attention from both of them, refusing to pick a side. With joyful ease, he flirted with Lydia and broed it up with Jackson as tensions grew and both began to get impatient.

It came to something of a head one evening while Aiden was with Jackson at his house.

Aiden checked his phone then shrugged apologetically to Jackson.

“Hey, sorry, dude, something came up,” 

“Oh yeah?” Jackson asked, raising his eyebrow in a distinctly unimpressed manner, “And what’s that?”

“Lydia’s asked me over,” Aiden replied, turning to leave. “Movies and pizza.”

“You’re ditching me to go watch movies with Lydia?” Jackson sneered.

Aiden shrugged again and reached for the doorknob, “Hey, nothing against you, but there might be orgasms in this for me.”

Something jealous flared in Jackson along with a millisecond of doubt before he squashed it and moved to hold the door closed, “As someone who’s dated Lydia, let me tell you a way that she and I are different: she doesn’t put out on the first date.” 

Jackson leaned into Aiden’s space and cut him off before he could start to speak, “So you can go and watch The Notebook with her or whatever, or,” he glanced at Aiden’s lips before dragging his gaze lazily up to the other’s eyes, “you can come upstairs.”

\----

“You hit on him with a pun?” Danny asked, incredulously.

Jackson scrunched his face and scoffed, “What? No I didn’t.”

“You did,” Lydia cut in, disbelieving and incensed, “I was cockblocked by a pun.”

“It wasn’t cockblocking, Lydia, you weren’t going to fuck him,” Jackson rolled his eyes, “And I didn’t make a pun.”

“You kind of did,” Allison said, “You asked him if he wanted to 'come' upstairs.”

Jackson blinked while the rest of the table looked at him expectantly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I hit on him with a pun.”

Allison grimaced with him and patted him on the shoulder while Danny grinned viciously.

“So did he?”

“Did he what?” Jackson snapped.

“Did he cum upstairs?” Danny asked again, unruffled by Jackson’s tone.

“Obviously.” Jackson replied with his usual cockiness, but it crumbled as quickly as it appeared. “D’you think he noticed?” 

“Well,” Lydia said smugly as she raised her hand to wave the twins over to their table as they walked in, “he certainly has now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from an AU of mine that will be an unpostable WIP until the day I die so I figured I'd just post it  
> Et tu, ao3 italics?


	2. The Kanima's Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Kanima needs to be used, regardless of its Master. Danny deals with the fallout of this.

The door to Jackson’s room is open. The last thing they need tonight is the Whittemore’s hitting their monthly Parental Phase and taking interest in their son’s life, so Danny walks over to close it. Unfortunately for him, he spots Jackson.

It starts easy: Jackson is standing in his room. He’s naked, but Jackson’s never been one to be bothered by that. Where the simplicity stops is around his elbows: everything below them is drenched in steadily drying blood.

This has never been a part of this whole thing that Danny’s put much thought into. People die and then the Kanima… cleans it up, easy. Except, the Kanima is usually covered in scales. And in dark alleys. This is different. Jackson’s face is turned towards Danny now, eyes empty, yellow and intense. Waiting. Jackson has always been a little insecure, but his praise seeking never came close to the pleading, obedient way the Kanima looks at its Master- at him- for every little thing.

Danny suddenly doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to see this. Shouldn’t see this- this thing in Jackson’s skin. The Kanima twitches and starts towards the window to leave. Danny pulls himself together just before its reaching hand can touch the window frame. Taking a deep breath- ignoring the salty stench of blood that chokes the back of his throat- and holding it, he concentrates on the Kanima staying. The Kanima clicks deep in its chest confusedly before walking into the ensuite bathroom instead. 

Danny’s exhale is as sharp as the first flood of water from the shower. Finally, back on track. Now all Danny has to do is go out the door and head home. He goes through the door. The bathroom door, because Danny hates himself, apparently. Again, the Kanima is staring at him when he enters, yellow eyes unblinking even as rivulets of water run into them. Holding its gaze, Danny grabs a washcloth and joins it in the shower. 

Reaching out, he feels the tug of wet clothes against his skin and realises he forgot to take them off. It seems incredibly insignificant right now. He eases one of his friend’s arms from the grip of the other and begins to gently rub the washcloth in circles over it. 

The Kanima’s arm is lax in his grip and he can feel its eyes still boring into him, sickly and slitted. Danny keeps his head bowed, focused on his task. He doesn’t look up when the water from this arm runs clear, when he reaches for the other and pulls it close, when the shower has long since gone ice cold. He is halfway done with this arm, watching the rosey pink water swirl down the drain, when the body infront of him tips forwards. Almost completely lax, it slumps into him, forehead resting on his shoulder.

Danny freezes. Barely daring to breathe, he whispers, “Jackson?”

Silence. Danny ignores the pit in his chest that suddenly aches and starts washing again, balancing as well as he could with the other’s weight pressing on him. He bites his lip determinedly and doesn’t let his breath shake.

“Danny?” Jackson’s voice is croaky, small and lost but it is Jackson’s.

The ache in Danny’s chest moves to his throat and he can only reply with a jerky nod, knowing the other is close enough to feel it. Impossibly, Jackson slumps heavier against him and Danny has to frantically rearrange his feet to avoid slipping over. Jackson stares down at Danny’s hands around his arm and watches, quietly, until he finishes.

It’s over, Danny begins to pull back. The blood is gone and now all they have to do is let everything go back to normal. All he has to do is forget about this whole night. A hand snags in his now sopping wet sleeve and Jackson wrests the washcloth from his grasp. Insistently, and yet with more care than Danny had ever really imagined him having, he takes Danny’s severely pruned hands and begins swiping away the diluted blood that had soaked under the nails. Danny looks up and into blue eyes, maybe not as bright as they were this morning, but definitely human. Definitely Jackson, if not a Jackson that would ever see the light of day.

Something in Danny crumples and he lets himself fall forward to rest on Jackson- fair’s fair after all. He lets himself gasp shuddering breaths into the other’s skin, barely feeling the rough swipe of the washcloth on his fingertips through the cold.

“I’m sorry.”

If he hadn’t felt the words vibrate into his skin where they touched and was glad for it; he’s not sure he would’ve believed Jackson had spoken. Off-kilter he asks, “What for?”

It is quiet again until Jackson finishes the first hand.

“For breaking your bike. That was shit of me.”

The world steadied, “When we were 9?”

“Yeah.”

He huffs a laugh then shrugs, tipping his head to look up at Jackson, “I’m over it.”

Jackson’s lips purse slightly and one eyebrow slides up.

Danny shakes his head, “Fine,” he says, lifting his weight up to stand in front of Jackon properly and looking him in the eye, “you’re forgiven.”

Jackson nods, satisfied, and switches the freezing water off, dropping the washcloth as he steps out onto the bathmat.

“Leave your clothes in the shower,” he says, dismissively, “I don’t need you dripping all over my carpet.”

Danny rolls his eyes but begins stripping as Jackson saunters back into his room. Danny joins him not long after, rubbing his hair with a towel. Jackson is laying on the bed with his laptop.

“Movie?”

The world is right again when Danny smiles, shrugs and joins him on the bed. If they wake up closer together than they normally would, then nobody needs to know. And if the first thing they both do is sneeze, then nobody needs to know that, either. Especially not Lydia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Baby's first oneshot!


	3. My Daddy's Got a Gun (and a whole lot of guilt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris supposes he's just glad that Allison isn't following her friends' example.

Lydia and Jackson have the exact same taste in partners. Their spats and cold wars over the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes of Beacon Hills have become infamous. Then there’s Danny, whose taste in men has always been appalling and- if Josh is anything to go by- isn’t gearing up to change any time soon. 

Sometimes, Chris thinks this is the only thing standing between him and a nervous breakdown.

Chris has worked hard to free himself from a lifetime of experience and bigotry for his daughter. He goes to pack meetings with minimal weaponry and even gives these idiot children lifts on occasion. It’s just-

Look, it’s not even the werewolf thing, it’s… Chris isn’t a hypocrite. But given who Scott’s sire was bitten and the way Isaac’s lips sometimes curl into smirks that spark a cold voice in Chris’ mind that whispers about 'beastiality' and 'impressive dedication to family traditions' with so much venom that Chris can barely stop himself from flinching. It gives him pause. Maybe it sort of is a werewolf thing. 

Sometimes he sees a spark in his daughter’s eyes when she and the Yukimura girl play with weapons and wishes. He wishes the friendly awe and admiration they look at eachother would blossom into something more, but then he comes home to the sofa filled with three crushed-together bodies and those dreams die. It is in these moments, looking down at fingers that could be viciously clawed in a heartbeat lying so close to his daughter’s major arteries, that he thinks about her best friends.

It’s not that he ardently follows the lovelives of these three highschoolers- that would be deeply uncomfortable for everyone involved- but he prides himself on having an open and honest relationship with his daughter and taking an active interest in her life. This includes, he believes, patiently listening to her whitter on about the romantic drama her friends are perpetually stuck in for what feels like hours at a time. 

(He tries to give life advice when he can, but he honestly doesn’t think anything about his past relationship experience can be applied to the utter mess that is Danny, Lydia and Jackson.)

Privately, Chris is working on a theory that being the Kanima’s Master allows Danny to sense when someone is a murderer because his success rate for being drawn to them is astounding. Granted, occasionally he dates people who are only serial cheaters or drug dealers, but at some point you have to wonder when you step in and ban a kid from dating.

Relativity truly makes itself apparent when you realise Danny is the quiet one. Lydia and Jackson have bickered over a plethora of one night stands and faceless armcandy, but things get truly explosive when the pack is dragged into it. Aiden, Kira, Allison, Jordan and Stiles have all testified that between Jackson and Lydia is the most terrifying place in the world to be.

So, standing over the sleeping thruple, Chris remembers the relief he’d felt when Allison had slipped between her two besotted friends with a pint of icecream and a gentle but firm rejection each and fallen into the arms of these two kind boys and thinks about how lucky he is that Allison has better sense than her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one use italics in ao3? I may never know.  
> God, this one is messy.


	4. Bringing Home the Venison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has his daughter back. And an incredibly hot man in the kitchen, apparently?

There is a stranger in his kitchen. A stranger rummaging around his cupboards, seemingly stocking them with groceries that Henry definitely didn't buy. Henry stared at the man in bafflement for a moment. Unluckily for him, during this time, the man reaches up to a high self and his t-shirt rides up to show a sliver of toned midriff and Henry's brain definitively stalls. Not to meantion the arms that flex and-

Henry may have been something of a social recluse these past few years, but he remembers enough to know that that is a train of thought you derail post haste while with company.

‘Company’ is not something he’s had in a while, especially not with people he hadn’t known before the crash. Which reminds him, he doesn’t know this man. However attractive his arms and jawline may be, there is a stranger in his kitchen, he should-

“Where’s there a fruit bowl?” the man asks casually.

“What?” Henry replies, dumbly. Should he know this man? Did he wake up in an alternate reality? His daughter’s alive, maybe that should’ve been his first clue. How long has he been in this reality? Does his alternate self have responsibilities he’s been neglecting? He can’t pindown an answer to any of these.

The man seems amused, “The fruit bowl, where is it?” a shadow of horror flicks over his face, “Do you have a fruit bowl?”

This is a question he can answer. Fruit perishes easily and can stink up a whole room or attract flies if you forget about it for long enough so Henry tends to buy only as much as he can eat out of the shopping bag the day he goes shopping. Still, he does have one- yet another relic from idyllic family life that clutters this house.

Numbly, he ducks to pick the dish from a cupboard slightly out of the kitchen. With his back turned to block the stranger’s view, he tries to subtly wipe away the dust and the molded reminders of his last attempt to use the bowl before he gave up on being a functioning adult. From the look the man has on his face when he turns around, he hasn’t quite succeeded.

With an amused smirk- does this man find everything funny or just him?- the other man crosses the room and reaches forward to hold the bowl, fingertips lightly brushing over Henry’s own. He doesn’t take it, just holds it with him and maintains eye contact. Henry sort of feels like this man can see every thought flicking through his head and wishes that would disturb him more than it does.

The man’s mouth twitches from a smirk to a charming smile, “I’m Peter.”

Oh thank god, this is their first time meeting. Relieved, Henry nods in response, “Henry.”

“Pleasure.” 'Peter' replies, finally sweeping the bowl from Henry before he saunters over to the sink and begins cleaning the years of grime off it. It’s a strange image, Peter- who looks far too well groomed for Henry’s dish gloves- scrubbing away while nattering about a nephew who doesn’t have a kitchen, let alone a fruit bowl. Not to mention, Peter is a guest and guests really shouldn’t be doing the dishes, especially handso- ones that you don’t know very well… Wait.

“Who are you?” Some part of Henry’s brain has finally come back online and he remembers to be angry about strangers barging into his house.

The amusement on Peter’s face stays- Henry thinks it might be a permanent fixture- but he looks a touch unimpressed as well, “Peter Hale.”

‘Hale’ catches in his brain and tries to pull something free but Henry’s too caught up in his belated anger to dwell on it. Instead, he’s deciding if he can get to his rifle before this wonderfully muscular- get it together, brain- stranger can get to him.

This is when Malia gets home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Henry  
> This one might get a follow up


	5. The Terrible Twosome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo wants to play lacrosse. Brett is curious.  
> (set some time after the start of season 6, I guess)

Sneaking into a school is easier than people probably like to think it is, especially for fully trained infiltration and sabotage chimeras with nefarious purposes. Well, maybe nefarious was pushing it. In all honesty, he was barely being underhand, just a little bit of omitting something that the McCall pack wouldn’t even care about.

The truth is, Theo’s been getting weirdly into lacrosse lately. He’s not sure why- he’s always been more of a skateboarder- but it probably has something to do with teamwork and the sport’s connection to his only childhood friends that makes his subconscious take notice. Self awareness is important for all evildoers, it stops you from yelling about being the once and future alpha in the middle of the woods at night.

Again, Theo wasn’t really being evil. He just wanted to try out lacrosse. Admittedly, he was lying when he said that the McCall pack wouldn’t care. At the very least, Scott would get a starry-eyed look and ask him sincerely if he’d like to try out for the team. Stiles would probably accuse him of emotional manipulation or an assassination plot.

So Beacon Hills was out. Even if he went in the middle of the night, the wolves would be able to pick up his scent the next day. Instead, he was breaking into Devenford Prep a few hours before dark on a Saturday to use their lacrosse kit.

Finding the changing room was not hard. It stank. It stank like sweaty teenage boys and little else. Wrinkling his nose, Theo plunged into the cloud of odor and headed towards a locker, claws easily unlocking it. He blamed the stench on him being snuck up on.

“No way in hell,” a voice drawled behind him.

Act like you have a right to be here. “No way in hell, what?” he asked, turning to face the source. A tall boy with hooded eyes casually leaned on a locker, looking at him.

The boy scoffed, “No way in hell am I letting some chimera scratch up my gear,” he began to walk towards Theo, “especially not one who doesn’t even go here. What’re you even doing here?”

Supernatural, huh? That combined with the other’s shirtlessness suggested that this was Brett Talbot: bisexual werewolf of the Ito Pack. This he could deal with. Horny teenagers were something of Theo’s forte and- while this wasn’t exactly how he planned for the night to go- he was confident he could spin this towards a happy ending that didn’t result in any local Alpha’s getting called in.

Brett now loomed over Theo, close enough that he could get the scent of the other- well hidden, but not perfectly. Definitely wolf. Then Brett sniffed the air, “Wolf and… Coyote? Oh, you’re the evil one.”

Theo grimaced, there went that plan, “Ah, you’ve heard about that?” 

“Oh yeah, in great detail" Brett replied, lowly.

“Well, now you know why I can’t just sign up for the Cyclones.” he huffed, bringing his arms to fold across his chest. He wasn’t feeling defensive. He wasn’t.

Brett grimanced mock sympathetically, “That bad, huh?” but his eyes caught briefly on the shifting of Theo’s biceps, so he figured the plan was salvageable.

Theo looked up into Brett’s eyes and smiled slyly, “There’s an easy solution here.”

“Oh?” the other replied, eyes still mocking as he leaned slightly further into Theo’s personal space.

Theo nodded with faux seriousness, “Show me how, make sure I don’t break anything.”

Brett snorted.

“Come on, I’ll be gentle.” Theo cajoled, probably laying it on a little too thick.

“With my equipment?” Brett asked, grinning.

Theo hummed in reply. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

Brett tipped his head and considered, “Lacrosse is a pretty full contact sport. You sure you’re up for it, chimera?” he challenged.

Theo bristled slightly, squaring his shoulders and stepping closer still, “You sure your equipment’s up for it?” 

“Yeah, I am.” he replied, laughing. He swayed forwards close enough that Theo could feel his breath on his face before leaning past him entirely and grabbing 2 lacrosse sticks and a bag of balls from behind him.

Theo watched Brett saunter away with the equipment slung over his shoulder. As he reached the exit to the lacrosse field, he glanced over his shoulder.

“You coming or what?”

Theo grinned and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two would have been hilarious together. We were robbed.


	6. Repressed Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson's dreams are forcing him to face his actions as the Kanima. Apologies are not his strong suit, but Allison's willing to hear him out.
> 
> Contains allusions to canonical attempted sexual assault.

Jackson woke up feeling cold. This in and of itself is not unusual- there is a lizard hiding just beneath his skin, after all- but this cold was different. It reached through his bones and into his heart, it’s everywhere.

For the past few weeks, Jackson has been dreaming about what the Kanima did. So far he has seen most of the murders Matt committed along with some particularly weird nights that involved carrying him up the walls of the houses opposite-

Jackson rushed out of the house for a walk, the air would clear his head and the bite of it rested easier against his skin than the sweltering warmth of indoors. He walked and walked and walked and didn’t realise he was heading anywhere in particular until he felt the shock of Allison’s electrified windowsill in him.

So now Jackson was lying on his back on a nicely carpeted bedroom floor with a loaded crossbow in his face. He’d barely been awake an hour.

“What are you doing here?” Allison asked, a little annoyed but not upset.

Jackson looked past the crossbow bolt to her smiling face and then decided against it. He smiled as charmingly as he could muster at the metal tips and said, “Can’t I come visit my favourite deadly weapon?”

Allison frowned, “What’s wrong?” then it seems to occur to her that that’s an odd question to ask someone while holding them at bolt-point and finally lowered her arm.

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Well, jokes on her, Jackson’s fine. Nothing is wrong with Jackson. To prove his point, he met Allison’s eyes and smiled again. Except… his eyes slid off her like water, always finding something more interesting on the wall behind her. He’s so caught up in trying to look at her that he forgets to answer.

After a few beats, she realised he wasn’t going to reply anytime soon and nudged his prone body with her foot, “Jackson?”

Well, clearly this conversation was a lost cause. What does he say now? If he says he’s fine it’ll come off noticeably fake and invite discussion. He can’t change the subject, Allison is nothing if not a hunter and she won’t allow herself to be so easily distracted. Instead, he let his head flop back and stared determinedly at the ceiling. Maybe she’d leave if he stays quiet? No, that’s stupid, it’s her room. What was he even doing in her room? Traitorous legs.

Allison huffed and slid down to sit at the base wall of her window, near Jackson’s feet, and prepared to wait this out. This is not the reaction he was hoping for.

Ten minutes later, Jackson cracked, “I’ve been having dreams about what I did, you know…” he trailed off.

Allison’s head rose from where it had been resting on her arms, “Oh, Jackson, whoever you kill-”

“Not that,” Jackson scoffed, cutting her off. That really wasn’t something he wanted to get into now. “I meant in the locker room.”

Realisation dawned on her face, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I know it wasn’t you. I figured it out.” she quickly mumbled.

“Wow, thanks for your faith in me,” Jackson replied, sarcastically. His face sobered at her light kick on his ankle, “I didn’t know and it really wasn’t me, but still. I’m sorry and all that. It shouldn’t have happened to you”

Allison pulled on Jackson’s leg and gradually manhandled him into sitting next to her against the wall. She didn’t look at him after that, just buried her face into her arms. They sat, side by side with shoulders pressed together, in silence for a while. Jackson fidgeted his hands when Allison’s ribcage began to jolt and shudder as she tried to keep herself from crying. She didn’t reach over to him, so he figured he could leave this to her and just waited.

Eventually, she raised her head sharply and looked over to him, eyes only a little red, “Thanks,” she said sincerely.

Jackson smiled at her and nudged their shoulders together lightly. Allison snorted and bumped back harder, “Facing the consequences of your decisions, huh?” she asked, not unkindly.

Jackson flinched a little, “Yeah, I guess. It sucks. Apologies are hard.”

Allison rolled her eyes, “Woe is you.”

Jackson elbowed her in the side, “Oi, I was kind of thrown into the deep end with all this.”

Allison started laughing uglily and hysterically. Her body shook with the force of trying to smother it. Jackson stared at her in confusion, “What? What’s so funny?”

Allison shook her head violently as she tried to stay upright while cackling, “It’s not funny,” she breathlessly insisted, “It’s really not. It’s,” she had to pause as another round of giggles hit her. Gasping, she continued, “Deep end. Drowning. Matt-”

Jackson’s previously frowning eyebrows rose high as he stared at his friend, “Allison, oh my God. What the fuck?” He started to chuckle helplessly before he was hit with the same hysteria as Allison.

Neither could stop. Everytime they thought they were calming, their eyes would catch and it would start again. All the effort Allison had put into not crying earlier was wasted as tears streamed from their eyes.

Eventually, Chris knocked irritatedly on the door and walked in. “Allison, I’ve got work to do, you keep it down?” he asked, not even acknowledging Jackson’s unannounced presence.

Allison bit her lip to keep her laughter down while Jackson held his breath and stared determinedly at a blank space of wall, shoulders shaking. She nodded, “Sure, dad, sorry about the noise.”

Chris seemed satisfied and left, closing the door behind him. They sat quietly again until their breathing was under control.

“Fuck Matt,” Allison declared.

Jackson nodded in agreement, “Fuck Matt.”

The mood soured a little.

“Want to go swimming?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Rather than return to awkward and guilty silence from before, Jackson said the first tension breaker that came to mind.

“I swallowed a snake whole.”

Allison choked on her own saliva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was kind of messed up that canon never brought that locker room scene up again? They were friends?? Why the heck was it never mentioned again???


	7. Alpha to Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe has decimated the Ito Pack. Lori- not having the wolfsbane in her system to prevent her healing when the car hit- is the last remaining member. Scott reaches out to let her know that she isn't alone and Lori tells him something he's needed to hear for a long time.

Lori sat on a bench in Beacon Hills’ Veterinary Clinic. The room she was in was empty except for Scott McCall who was crouched in front of her.

“Control will come in time,” Scott said lowly as Lori stared in shock at her claws, their surfaces reflecting the red glow of her eyes.

She nodded numbly, “I’ve never- I’m a born wolf; this all feels wrong,” she tried to explain. Her mouth twisted up sadly, “I feel like how Liam always smells.”

Scott laughed quietly at this, “That’s a pretty good way of describing it.” His face sobered and he ducked his head to meet her eyes, “You know we’ll help you with anything you need, right? Even if that’s just a place to stay. You may feel alone, but I promise we will be here.” 

Lori looked up with gratitude before looking back down at her hands, laying them flat, palms-down on her lap, “I know.” 

“Just ask,” Scott nodded. After a pause he asked, “Do you want me to get anyone for you?”

Laura shook her head no, staring at him in deliberation. Just as he was about to leave, she spoke.

“Scott?” Lori asked in a small but determined voice, decision made.

Pausing at the door frame, Scott turned back to Lori, concern across his face. Lori patted the seat next to her, looking back down at her toes. He sat and waited patiently for her to speak.

“The whole True Alpha thing-” Lori paused and frowned, rewording her point, “Sa-Satomi had a theory about how you became Alpha, but she was worried about sparking unrest between the two packs so she never-” she choked down a sob and continued, laughing humorlessly, “I guess that’s not really a problem now.”

Despite his growing confusion, Scott sensed his input wasn’t yet needed and simply placed a warm hand on her arm to help ground her.

Lori took a deep breath, “Derek gave up his Spark not long before your eyes turned r-red, right?”

Scott nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

“Right. Well, packs sort of need A-Alphas- they’re the core of the pack- but sometimes an Alpha d-dies in a way that isn’t another werewolf stealing their power like-” 

Scott cut her off by squeezing her arm to show he understood.

She glanced at him with a quick half-smile of gratitude, “Yeah. But that leaves a p-pack,” she took a breath and powered through, “without an Alpha. So, rather than that Spark being lost, it’s i-inherited by another member of the pack.

“It happened with Laura Hale, it happened with- with m-me,” she swallowed down another sob, “because there was nowhere else for it to go, but with you,” she looked up at him, “I heard your eyes were already flickering red before Derek healed his sister.”

Again, Scott only nodded.

“The Alpha Spark was already trying to resettle into you,” she said and reached out to grasp his hand, voice rising in volume and intensity, “because you were not the next choice, you were the choice. When the members of the pack thought of Alpha, they thought of you, even when Derek was the one with the Spark.”

She squeezed Scott’s hand with werewolf strength, her grief-laden, determined eyes meeting his wide, wet ones, “You’re not a True Alpha because of an outstanding moral character or purity of soul or anything; you’re Alpha because this pack loves you and trusts your judgement.” 

Lori’s already vise-like grip tightened further and her eyes flared red, through tears, Scott’s eyes flared in return. He gathered her into a tight hug, leaning as much on her as she leaned on him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice wrecked.

Lori shrugged as casually as she could muster, “Seemed like something you should know,” she said, then gripped the back of his shirt and burrowed as far into him as she could.

They sat like that in silence for a long time, gradually making uncommented-upon wet patches on eachother's clothes, before either felt steady enough to speak again. Lori once again sounded too small to be Lori, but some of the steel was returning to her voice.

“I don’t know what I’m going to be like as an Alpha, it’s not something I was ever supposed to- and it’s not like I have a-” accepting that sentence as a lost cause, she took a deep breath and pulled away from Scott, looking him in the eyes again.

“But. But I think between you and Satomi, I know what I’m aiming for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott is a good boi with way too much pressure on him, don't @ me.  
> While I was writing this, my brain made up a whole plot thing for Lori so that's happening I guess.


	8. Siblinghood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a child. A child that was adopted by someone in or around Beacon Hills at a certain time. It's most likely either Malia or Jackson.  
> 'Sire' is just a fancy way of saying 'parent', right?  
> And learning about your parents' past relationships can be difficult.
> 
> Set somewhere through season 3, I guess? Who knows.
> 
> Warning: Jackson's shitty sense of humour; there's a pseudo-incest joke part way through

"So," Jackson began solemnly, hands folded on the table. "I think we all know why we're here."

Malia nodded back, Scott grinned nervously and Allison continued staring straight at the floor.

He continued, "It's come to our attention--"

"I don't want to talk about it." Allison interrupted, voice thick with grief.

"- that due to recent information, our club must expand." He talked over her, getting louder. Someone at another table in the cafe glanced over with annoyance and was ignored. "Henceforth, on Thursdays fortnightly, we four shall- Hrk"

Allison withdrew her foot from where it had connected with Jackson's shin, "I don't see why I'm here and I don't appreciate you deciding what I'm going to do with my Thursdays."

"Fortnightly Thursdays," Jackson argued while Malia put her hand definitively on his shoulder.

"Why are you talking like that?" she didn't wait for him to answer, instead turning to Allison. "You're here because Peter fucked your da-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" She repeated, louder still, before slumping forward in her seat and letting Scott loop a comforting arm over her shoulders.

"Oh get over it," Jackson said, "we're all here because Peter fucked someone-"

"I'm not." Scott said.

"- except Scott, who's here because he followed Stilinski of all people into the woods at night."

Scott frowned a bit at the wording, but let Jackson carry on speaking.

"The point is, you're not alone. Hell, even Scott's mum's gone on a date with him."

The light in Scott's eyes died for a moment as he remembered. Malia slapped his back in what was probably supposed to be a comforting way but instead sent him- and by extension Allison- careening into the table, spilling coffee everywhere. 

"And that's why we need The Peter Hale is (Sort of) my Dad Alliance." Jackson concluded, ignoring the coffee everyone else was trying to mop up except to push his seat back and avoid the drips coming off the table. 

Scott paused, hands cupped in a barrier as Malia grabbed more paper towels from the next table over. "I'm not really comfortable being in a club like that with my girlfriend." 

Allison nodded as she carried the little bin over from the side of the cafe and began slipping the used towels into it. "You're right, it is weird and you were here first. It wouldn't be right for me to push you out of this group and-" 

"No." Jackson insisted, "both belong and deserve to be here. You'll just have to get over the weird, incestual undertones of your relationship in your own time."

He paused, looking considerate while the others wrinkled their noses at his words.

"You probably should address it with Isaac too considering Derek's Peter's nephew." 

"No, stop," Scott insisted, eyes squeezed tight shut as he shook his head vigorously. Allison just glared at Jackson.

"That doesn't make any sense, anyway," Scott argued. "Biting someone doesn't make you their parent."

"Sure it does, 'pack is family' and all that." Jackson smirked at the other boy, "better wrap those teeth, McCall, I doubt your mum would appreciate you making her a grandmother so early in life."

Scott looked terrifiedly at Allison. "Should I get a muzzle?" 

"Kinky." Jackson cackled. Allison swore under her breath instead of replying to either of them and rushed over to where Malia had vaulted over the cafe’s counter and began rifling through the stuff there for more paper towels.

“Please,” a very harassed looking cashier said to Malia, periodically glancing at the coffee and paper towel sodden table Scott was staring at in despair. “If you just tell me what you need I can get it for you.”

Malia shook her head, “I’ll sniff them out, you can just keep doing whatever.”

“I’m so sorry,” Allison gushed at the cashier with her best put-upon doe eyes. “My friend from the country hasn't quite grasped erm…” she looked at where Malia had begun eyeing up the door to the back of the cafe, “Paper towels; we spilled some stuff.”

The cashier did his best customer service smile and grabbed them, thrusting them at Allison with understandable but unnecessary force. Malia did her best polite smile back and lept across the counter again.

“Malia, you can’t just barge into areas meant for employees only.” Allison said as they walked over to Jackson and Scott.

Malia frowned, “But dad said to inconvenience workers as little as possible, so I figured I’d just get them myself.”

“Yeah, sure, but there’s areas like that where you can’t go.”

“Oh, why?”

“They might think you’re stealing.”

Malia considered this and seemed to decide it was a reasonable enough rule to follow, “Ok, I should go apologise.”

Allison glanced back to the stressed cashier and grabbed her arm before she could turn around. “Best not. We’ll just get Jackson to leave a big tip when we leave.”

“Get Jackson to what now?” he asked.

“Pay off the cashier when we leave so we don’t get banned from here forever.”

“Why would I do that? It was you cretins that caused this mess.”

Allison smiled sweetly, “But we’re your siblings!” she said, voice saccharine.

Jackson narrowed his eyes and stared, unblinking, at each other.

“Seriously, why are you talking like that?” Malia asked again.

Jackson opened his mouth imperiously and Allison cut across whatever nonsense was about to come out of it, “He’s been spending a bunch more time with Peter,” she said, conspiratorially, “The traitor.”

“Traitor?” Jackson squawked, “He might be my dad you--”

“He’s just as likely to be my dad,” Malia interrupted. “You don’t see me spending,” she wrinkled her nose, “time with him, do you?”

“By your logic,” Scott added, “he is my dad.”

“Yeah,” Allison nodded, “and we all remember you begging Derek to let you kill him.”

Malia silently raised her hand for a high five. Awkward, but unwilling to dissuade Malia from things like this, Scott gave it to her. 

“Whatever.” Jackson grumbled and slumped into his seat.

By this point, Scott had finished wiping the coffee off the table and Malia had got what had dribbled onto the floor so they all sat for a moment in silence. Allison shifted from just watching Jackson sulk and chose violence.

“How are the Whittemores?”

“What the fuck, Argent?” Jackson sneered back.

“Are you not getting along with your parents? I thought things were going better with them.” Scott asked with raw, sincere concern.

Jackson fidgeted a little at being the sole focus of the Alpha’s attention and grumbled, “Who told you that?” He fought a flush that threatened to spread across his cheeks and continued, a little louder. “And what’s it to you anyway?” 

Scott frowned and opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and simply reached across the table to lay a hand on his arm. Malia thumped her shoulder into his other arm. Jackson promptly lost the battle against his blush.

Allison just grinned, “What’s the problem? I thought this was a support group to complain about parents?”

Never one to miss an opening, Jackson shot back. “Does this mean we’re finally going to address your problem with--”

“Don’t!” Allison almost yelled.

“-- Peter being your dad’s ex?” he finished anyway.

Allison’s fists clenched as she glared, eyes slightly teary, back at him. Fine.

“Fine. Sure. Let’s talk about my problem with how my dad probably loved Peter more than he ever loved my mother who killed herself for being a werewolf. Should we talk about how my grandfather forced my dad away from what was apparently the best thing in his life at the time? About how my aunt killed his family and put him in a coma? Got any words of wisdom, Jackson?” she challenged angrily.

“I’m sure your parents loved each other,” Scott said softly. “Even if they weren’t in love, they were still partners, they still had you together, still… hunted together. For years. That’s not nothing.”

The anger drained out of her at this and she leaned fully on him, nuzzling gently into his neck. Scott raised his hand to gently stroke her hair. Jackson sat up straight in his seat and pretended to be unapologetic.

“All this,” he waved his hand vaguely in her direction, “will fade with time.”

Allison turned her head from Scott’s neck enough to glare at Jackson as he continued.

“It will all fade until all that remains is the image of Peter and your dad fucking that you’ll see every time you look at Peter.”

Allison considered this for a moment before accepting this as the apology and exit from this conversation that it was and began laughing. Scott looked a bit bemused at the mood change but smiled sappily down at his giggling girlfriend anyway, stealthily taking a picture of her and sending it to Isaac. He was, of course, not stealthy enough to fool a master hunter and Allison batted his arm lightly, still grinning.

Malia shared a look with a smug Jackson and spoke up, “If you ever figure out how to deal with that, let me know. I think Peter’s trying to seduce my dad.”

The other three jolted and clamoured almost simultaneously, voices melding and clashing as they all tried to talk over each other. Malia got the gist.

“Yeah, he keeps showing up at my house with super fancy food and stuff. He just lets himself in and starts putting it away. And I swear his collars keep getting lower every visit.”

Scott nodded frantically, “He did the same with me! I mean, when he was still trying to get with my mum he used to send super nice takeout whenever she was on shift and we kept getting deliveries of clothes and chocolate.” He frowned and tipped his head. “He never showed up to the house again though. He probably knew my mum wouldn’t have it.”

“That’s the thing,” Malia exclaimed, “my dad doesn’t seem to mind it. I think,” she lowered her voice and leaned closer, “I think he might like it. A lot.”

“That makes sense.” Jackson said. The others looked at him. “What? No offence, Malia, but your dad doesn’t exactly look like he’s got his shit together, you know? And then this rich, handsome- shut up Allison-”

“Keep your daddy kink out of civil conversation, then.”

“- this rich, handsome man shows up in his house and provides for him and his daughter- who he’s very out of his depth looking after-”

“Oi! What’s that for?”

“Eichen house, remember? Anyway, provides for him and his daughter, flirts and flashes some collarbone. He’s probably head over heels already.”

“But I don’t want my maybe-dad to be my actual-dad’s ‘sugar daddy’ or whatever!” Malia said a little too loudly, much to the amusement of Jackson and discomfort of the other occupants of the cafe.

“You’ve talked about this with Stiles, haven't you?” Scott asked and nodded sagely when she confirmed.

“He suggested I just throw him out but I’ve tried that and he just comes back! And I’ve never been able to pin him down enough to properly maul him.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be weak?” Allison asked, “he’s been saying that almost every time we have to fight since he came back to life: ‘oooh, I’m not at full strength yet, I couldn’t possibly be any help’.”

Jackson laughed. “Yeah, that’s almost certainly bullshit. He-”

Scott cut off whatever he was going to say by turning and smiling at the cashier who had been standing by their table and awkwardly trying to find a way to get their attention. 

“I’m really sorry,” he started, jerkily, and Scott nodded at him in encouragement, “but you’re disturbing the other customers and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jackson sighed overdramatically and got out his wallet at Allison’s pointed look.

“We’re really sorry to have inconvenienced you in any way, it wasn’t our intention,” she announced to the man in an over pronounced and obviously rehearsed way.

“O-oh, umm thanks,” he replied with a little smile. He looked like he was about to continue before Jackson handed him way too much money for the drinks they’d ordered and began heading for the door with Allison. Scott pushed the others’ chairs into the table as Malia shrugged her massive jacket on.

“Have a nice day.” Scott said with a little wave as they started after the other two.

“Thanks! Thanks, yeah, you too.” he stuttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been told how to italicise. I will not grow


End file.
